


Released from Circles Guarded Tight

by Vampiric_Charms



Series: Burns Most of All [11]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 08:21:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6697171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampiric_Charms/pseuds/Vampiric_Charms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A justification is still a justification, regardless of the reasoning behind it - especially when the act being defended is one abhorred and feared by those around you.</p><p>Set before Mairon's fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Released from Circles Guarded Tight

**Author's Note:**

> The Mairon/Melkor-ish undertones here are subtle (or maybe not?), but they're there - even if Melkor himself does not make an appearance in this particular story. As always, at least for now, set before Mairon's fall. Maybe. Barely.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Have you heard? Is is true?”

“Is what true?” Mairon replied listlessly as he strode into the forge. 

Curumo stopped work immediately, gossip hot off his tongue from another’s, and Marion merely handed him a bright green apple as he passed the Maia’s workstation on his way to take his leather apron off its hook. “I do not have any idea what you are referring to, my friend. I am afraid you will have to fill me in on all the sordid details if you want my opinion on the matter.”

“Yes, of course.” Curumo held up the apple in thanks and looked around them to be sure no other ears were within range of hearing, though everyone else was focused on their own projects. He beckoned Mairon closer and dropped his voice to a conspiratory whisper. “Several Maiar were overheard discussing an encounter they had with - with _Lord Melkor_. Here, in our very own halls!” His narrow face was drawn with apprehension as he spoke, the words dotted with genuine fear, and Mairon did not have a chance to react before he took a breath to continue. “What do you imagine he wanted with them? Did he - did he _corrupt_ them, somehow? Have they been touched by his blackened soul?”

Mairon sought quickly for a response as these words washed over him. Curumo was full of gossip; he had ears in every hall of Arda, it seemed, sociable as he was. He would sometimes fill Mairon himself in on the goings-on of their home as they worked together, especially when he felt he needed guidance on something or another. But this - 

No one knew of his own time spent with the cast off Vala. No one had any _right_ to. His footing suddenly felt thrown off.

“Perhaps they were merely telling stories,” Marion said gently as he could, putting a comforting hand on Curumo’s shoulder and firmly ignoring his own mind. “I truly doubt anyone has been corrupted. Such a strong word.”

“But what if Lord Melkor _has_ been walking among us once more!” Curumo began again, anxious and obviously troubled by the idea. “What if - what if he is gathering followers, or attempting to sway us away from our rightful masters?”

“Have you heard anyone speak of such matters?” Mairon asked, sharply enough that the other Maia’s eyes widened in surprise. He softened his tone and moved his hand to brace against Curumo’s upper arm, even as he felt his own heart beginning to pound against his throat. “I mean to say, all you have heard - it was only fleeting gossip of this single venture with our kin?” Curumo nodded silently, receptive as always to his compassionate words. 

“Have you told Master Aulë?”

“I was wondering if this was something he should know, truthfully,” he admitted, bashful color flooding his face all the way to his hairline. “Or maybe it is just baseless gossip after all.”

Mairon was not sure, in that moment, whether he was relieved or distraught that their master was unaware of Melkor’s doings, and confusion for so many things overtook his mind for another quickening heartbeat. He dropped his hand from Curumo’s arm, his gaze unfocused, and he thought for a wild second of leaving, going to find Melkor himself and - and _nothing_. He did not even know where the Vala was, much less where to find him whenever he pleased. It was typically quite the other way around. 

“Perhaps you should mention it,” he said, the words flat. Expected, truly, of what he was supposed to say, even as it rang hollow between the crackling fires. “Master Aulë would want to be aware. One can never be too safe.”

Curumo nodded, his relief apparent, and began to turn back to his table, reaching to set down the apple still clutched in his hand to save for later. But he paused and looked around again. “Mairon,” he murmured softly. “Do you think - if Lord Melkor has come back to us - do you think he is dangerous as everyone wishes us to believe?”

Mairon was silent for a moment, considering his answer carefully. 

The time he spent with Melkor had grown precious to him, something to be treasured between the ordinary tasks of his given life and kept close. These were moments he could be himself, allow his walls of stone down and let another soul see inside his own in a way he did not fathom was possible before. This was not _danger_ , or evil, or darkness, luring him away. This was, simply, the path to fulfillment, to the happiness and joy his spirit was created for at all - and there was no ill in that. How could there be? 

“I would like to think he is not so dangerous,” he finally replied wistfully, “as wishing for someone to share his adventure with. Something we all seek, truly, do we not?” Curumo smiled at him as he spoke, and Mairon could feel the other’s uneasiness evaporating as what he said was fully heard. 

“Yes,” Curumo agreed easily, his grin widening. “Yes, you are exactly right. Someone to share the adventure with. I suppose we are all after that very thing. What a pleasing idea.”

“Quite pleasing, indeed.”


End file.
